Knight in Shining Leather Syndrome
by BlackBliss
Summary: In which Kurt finds himself in a bad situation, rescued by Puck, and suddenly struck by feelings of intense infatuation. Too bad he's still dating Blaine and Puck isn't exactly interested…or is he? Featuring Pukurt and Klaine.


**Knight in Shining Leather Syndrome**

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Glee. Glee owns me.

**Spoilers: **The first chapter takes places during the New York episode of season two, so I suppose that all of season one and two are fair game.

**Warnings: **Hm. Well, boy-on-boy action obviously, some non-con situations, violence, alcohol and drug use, and bad language. What can I say? I like being naughty.

Kurt had always fancied himself to be an intelligent young man – someone smarter than the average person and certainly sharper than the Neanderthals he was forced to attend high school with. This was exactly why he had no idea what he was thinking when he had agreed to do something so completely reckless. Granted, he had no idea that this single action would result in all of his current problems. Still, he blamed this horrible mess – and the insane infatuation that was taking over his every waking thought – entirely on one Santana Lopez. After all, the recklessness that kick started this whole mind-numbing, headache-inducing, wild situation was wholly her idea.

-GLEE-

Kurt had no idea why Mr. Schuester had even bothered assigning rooms to his glee kids when the man had booked the hotel rooms in New York. They had just lost Nationals – not even placing in the top ten – and Kurt doubted that anyone was really in the room they were supposed to be in. Case in point, less than an hour ago Rachel had literally physically removed Kurt from the room he was sharing with Finn so that she could have a "private discussion" with his step-brother. Kurt could image exactly what this "private discussion" would entail – arguing about their impromptu, on-stage kiss, a reenactment of said kiss, more arguing, followed by Rachel eventually storming out of the room. It was for this reason that Kurt was actually somewhat grateful that Rachel had bothered to kick him out. He had experienced and witnessed enough drama for one day, thank you very much. Not to mention the fact that the sight of Finn and Rachel sucking face would undoubtedly make him nauseous.

Still, by kicking Kurt out of his own hotel room, Rachel had forced him to flee to her assigned room. The one she happened to have been sharing with a certain fiery Latina. Using the plastic key Rachel had given him, he had barged right in on Santana and Brittany exchanging what the latter liked to refer to as lady kisses. Kurt was sure that Brittany had probably left her assigned roommate, Tina, alone in their shared room so that the pretty Asian could get busy with Mike. Who knew what rooms the other members of New Directions were currently occupying?

Besides Brittany's enthusiastic greeting when Kurt walked through the door – "Hi, baby!" – both girls had essentially ignored his presence. In fact, they had spent the majority of the last hour making out. Granted, it wasn't as disturbing or as mental illness-inducing as watching Finn and Rachel get their mack on, but still. There was only so much lady kissing that a gay teen could take in one day.

Sick of watching the girls attack each others' faces with their lips, Kurt sighed as loudly and obnoxiously as he could, hoping to finally get their attention. He glanced over at the girls on the bed opposite the one he was lounging on. No reaction. Channeling his frustration, he sighed again, this time even louder and got up so that he could flop dramatically on the bed that the ex-Cheerios were making out on.

"Something got your panties in a twist, Hummel?"

Santana's condescending question and following smirk was not exactly the reaction Kurt was going for, but seeing as it got the girls to finally stop sucking off each other's faces, he decided his be-as-loud-and-annoying-as-possible-until-they-acknowledge-you strategy was a success.

"No. But I think my eyes are bleeding from watching you two basically do the dirty with your clothes on." Kurt smiled brightly as the Latina girl rolled her eyes at him. His smile was abruptly shocked off his face, however, when Brittany suddenly pounced on him.

"You're bleeding, baby? Where? I don't see any blood!" She sounded frantic as she grasped the other teen's face, jerking it left and right as she searched for injury.

Kurt groaned as Santana cackled evilly from where she was now perched haughtily on the bed. He patted the blonde's head patiently as he explained that it was just a figure of speech and that he wasn't really bleeding. Brittany didn't seem to really understand, but smiled happily anyway. "Just don't scare me like that again, okay? I don't like it when my baby is hurt."

He couldn't help but smile sweetly back at the blonde. Kurt doubted Brittany knew how often her casual words actually made an impact on him and made him feel instantly better about himself.

"Come on Brittany, I wants to get my mack back on," Santana interrupted, grabbing for the girl's hand to pull her back over to her lap. "Preferably before the two of you start making me barf rainbows with your disgusting sweetness."

Faced with having to witness their sexual promiscuity up close, Kurt abruptly decided he wasn't above begging. "Come on, you guys. I'm sitting right here. Doesn't that bother you?"

Apparently, he wasn't a very good beggar. Brittany just looked confused as to why she would be bothered and Santana smirked. "No," she answered offhandedly, but with a wicked gleam in her eye, "does it bother _you_?"

Kurt glared at the girl. "As a matter of fact, it does. I'm _gay_ Santana," he emphasized the word gay as if he were speaking to an exceptionally dimwitted person. "That means that I like boys, not girls. Even watching two gorgeous girls making out does absolutely nothing for me."

"Aw, Hummel," the Latina replied, voice seeping with false sweetness, "I never knew you thought that Brittany and I were gorgeous."

Brittany giggled. Kurt, on the other hand, immediately felt the flush creeping up his neck and the hotness threatening to take over his face. Of course, out of everything he said, that was what Santana chose to comment on. Naturally, Santana immediately began to snicker at the delightful blush that he was sure by now completely covered his cheeks.

He crossed his arms defensively and waited for the two girls to finishing laughing at his expense. "You're so funny," he managed to murmur sarcastically with a dramatic eye roll.

Santana's smirk didn't lessen. "Oh, Brittany, it's he so cute when he blushes? I bet his boyfriend Bland takes full advantage of that."

"It's _Blaine_," Kurt corrected indignantly, "and for your information, he's a perfect gentleman."

"Oh, I'm sure that you're just a sweet little virgin," Santana agreed sarcastically.

At this point, Kurt was relatively sure his face resembled some sort of grotesque tomato. He looked down at this folded hands and tried his best not to give away that yes, he was, in fact, a virgin. He obviously failed spectacularly.

"Holy shit, you _are_ a virgin!"

He immediately went back to glaring at Santana. Brittany was squealing excitedly beside her, clapping her hands. "My beautiful baby gay, this is why I love you!"

Disregarding Brittany's outburst altogether, Kurt tried to defend himself from the Latina girl who was not-so-subtly leering at him.

"So, what? Just because Blaine and I really like each other and are dating doesn't mean that we have to…you know, be doing _it_."

Now it just looked like Santana was trying very hard not to laugh. And kind of failing at it too. "You can't even say the word? Shit, Hummel, have you even gotten to first base with Blank?"

"It's _Blaine_!"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

Kurt tried to answer the question to the best of his ability without revealing the fact that he wasn't exactly sure what getting to first base consisted of. "Well, we kiss a lot and do…some stuff."

"Like what?" Santana immediately demanded.

Brittany was nodding eagerly beside her. "Tell us more about your boy kisses."

"Urm," Kurt began awkwardly, "well he kissed my neck once and I even got to feel his chest under his shirt a few times too."

Santana was staring at him open mouthed. Brittany just looked sympathetic. "My poor baby gay."

"There's nothing wrong with being a virgin," he protested immediately. "You guys know that Blaine is my first boyfriend. It's not exactly like I have a hoard of out and proud gay guys throwing themselves at me in Middle-of-Nowhere, Ohio." Kurt aimed an indignant look at the two girls, daring them to argue.

Brittany, not surprisingly, just looked confused by Kurt's outburst. "Where's Middle-of-Nowhere, Ohio? I don't think I've ever been there, but I've heard people talk about it a lot."

If Kurt wasn't anxiously watching Santana, who had suddenly developed a positively demonic look in her eyes, he probably would have told his blonde friend that he was referring to Lima. Instead, he could only watch with dread as the fiery girl slowly stood from the bed. "You're right," she agreed, the wicked gleam not leaving her eyes.

Kurt suddenly didn't want to be right. He licked his lips nervously. "Why do I get the feeling that you're about to suggest a really, _really_ bad idea?"

Acting as if she hadn't heard him, Santana placed her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. "Hummel, we're in New York."

Kurt wasn't exactly sure what that had to do with anything, but hesitantly urged the dark haired girl to go on. "And?"

"Do you know what being in New York means?"

He glanced over at Brittany to see if she had any idea what Santana was talking about. The blonde looked as lost as he felt. "That our glee club got to perform at a national level?" Kurt finally tried.

Santana looked exasperated and squeezed Kurt's shoulders harder. "No, Hummel. It means that there _are_ out and proud gays here. Many of whom, I assure you, would be more than happy to pop your little cherry."

Brittany suddenly looked a lot more excited, her confused frown transforming into a huge grin. "We can find someone who will give Kurt real boy kisses!"

Kurt, on the other hand, was horrified. Before the boy could smack down her idea, however, Santana immediately explained herself better. "We could sneak out to a night club. How awesome would it be to go out to a club where no one cares what gender anyone else is into? You don't actually have to do the dirty with anyone, Hummel, I was just kidding about that part, honest."

Kurt was still reluctant. "I don't think that Blaine would appreciate me sneaking out to a random night club in New York City."

Santana rolled her eyes. "You don't have to tell him. Hell, we don't have to tell _anyone_." She looked to the blonde sitting beside Kurt for support.

Brittany immediately nodded and latched onto Kurt's arm. "It'll be, like, a secret," she promised.

Kurt's could feel his reservations fading. He found himself actually wanting to go. Being the only out gay kid in a small town was unbelievably hard and the idea of going out to some club and being accepted for exactly who he was, was beyond tempting. Still, part of him – probably the intelligent part – was telling him that this was exactly what he had originally presumed it to be – a really, _really_ bad idea.

"How are we even going to get in? None of us are eighteen, let alone twenty-one."

"A lot of places don't even check for ID's," Santana scoffed.

"What if something awful happens to one of us?"

The Latina rolled her eyes. "As long as we stick together, we'll be fine."

Kurt was still hesitant. "What if Mr. Schuester comes to check on us in our rooms and we aren't here?"

"We've been in New York for two nights already and he has yet to do room checks," she fired back. "No way he does tonight, either."

"But," Kurt continued to argue, even if he was now grasping at straws, "all my clothes are in my room and I can't go out in _this_." He looked down at his pajama-clad body. No matter how fashionable his dark green, two piece outfit was, it was not appropriate for a night club.

Santana, however, didn't look concerned. She only smirked smugly at him. "You can wear some of my clothes. You're tiny enough."

Kurt could feel his face flushing once again. He knew he wasn't exactly proper sized and he didn't need to be reminded of that fact. He was about to point this out when he felt Brittany once again tugging his arm in excitement. "Please baby," the blonde begged, doing her best to look pathetic.

Kurt sighed, knowing he couldn't resist her sad face. "Fine, but make it snappy."

Not twenty minutes later, the two girls had managed to squeeze Kurt into a pair of Santana's red leather pants and shoved one of her white long-sleeve tops over his head. A pair of Brittany's black boots that she had run back to her room to get completed the look. Kurt even allowed Santana to put some eyeliner around his eyes after the girls convinced him that it would make his "gorgeous eyes" pop out even more.

When Kurt saw his appearance in the mirror when they were done, he freaked.

"You made me look like a hooker!"

He desperately grabbed the bottom of the shirt he was wearing, trying in vain to get the too small top to cover the sliver of skin that was showing where the shirt ended and the pants began. Santana cackled at him. "No, you look hot! If I was a man looking for some action, I'd totally be all up on you."

That certainly didn't make Kurt feel any better. "There's no way I'm going out like this. This shirt is practically see through!"

"Sorry, Hummel, you don't got a choice," Santana explained all too excitedly before she grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him away from the mirror where he had continued to gawk at himself. "Come on, Brittany!"

With Kurt's elbow in one fist and Brittany's hand in the other, the Latina practically dragged the two out of the hotel room. "New York City, here we come!"

-GLEE-

Kurt couldn't remember having ever felt so good in his life! Santana had managed to find a club called Down and Dirty or Down for the Dirty – he couldn't really remember its name right now – not even a few blocks from the hotel they were staying at! The bouncer at the club's entrance had let the trio of seventeen year olds in without so much as a blink. That had been over two hours ago.

When he first arrived, he had been extremely self conscious of himself and the way Santana and Brittany had dressed him. He had been waiting for the looks of disgust and belittling comments. Not after five of minutes of joining Brittany and Santana on the club's crowded dance floor, however, had a man – a good-looking guy who looked about college age – approached him and asked him for a dance. He had stuttered out a "no", of course, much too nervous to actually accept, but still! An attractive guy had asked him – Kurt Hummel – to dance. He thought he had been on top of the world at that point, his self esteem getting a huge boost, but things got even better after that. More people approached the trio, asking for dances and offering drinks. Eventually, Santana and Brittany had agreed to sit down with a handsome man – Kurt vaguely recalled Brittany whispering to Santana that he was a "major stud" – leaving Kurt on his own on the dance floor.

It was at this point that in time that Kurt lost track of what actually happened. He dimly recalled a dark-haired man offering him a water bottle, spouting some line about him being so hot that he "needed to cool off". He remembered not really wanting to take it, knowing it was less than intelligent to take drinks from strangers. But he also remembered thinking that the water bottle was closed after all, and he had worked up quite a sweat, and now that someone was mentioning it, he was really, _really_ thirsty. After that, Kurt had been in heaven! He felt like he could fly he felt so good. So, _so_ good. Euphoric, really.

Bodies were touching him out on the dance floor. Lots of bodies dancing with him, pressing themselves against him as he moved to the music. Hands were on his shoulders, waist, even his face. The dark-haired man who had given him the water was laughing and touching him with the others. He briefly wondered where his two friends had run off too, but wasn't all that worried. He knew that Santana could take care of herself and her blonde friend, girlfriend, or whatever they referred to each other as. Apparently, however, he wasn't so good at taking care of himself.

The dark-haired man who gave him the water suddenly grabbed his wrist and began pulling him off of the dance floor. Kurt wanted to tell the man "no", that he was happy where he was, but when he opened his mouth to tell him this, he suddenly realized that he _was_ actually kind of tired and maybe it _would_ be a good idea to sit down. So he followed the guy to wherever he was taking him and allowed the man to shove him into a booth near the back of the club before he slide in much too close next to the exhausted teen, practically squashing his much smaller body.

Before Kurt could really understand the situation he found himself in, the man's hands were on him. One hand was tightly squeezing a leather-clad knee, the other on the back of his neck, firming pulling the teen's face, and consequently his lips, closer to the man's own.

"W-what?" he managed to stutter to the man, panicking when he couldn't get his lips to form the words he wanted to say. What was happening? Why couldn't he get his body to cooperate with him? It abruptly occurred to Kurt that if he couldn't make himself tell the man "no" or scream or do _something_, that no one around him would know that something was wrong. This place was filled with sexually charged people, making out and grinding on each other. They didn't stick out at all.

"Don't worry, sugar, Benny will take care of you." Kurt could feel the man's hot breath against his lips as the man's mouth loomed closer. He wanted to pull away, but much like his lips, the rest of his body was just _not_ cooperating. He managed to wiggle a little and whisper a soft "stop", but the man, this "Benny", didn't seem to notice. He just let the hand on Kurt's knee drift higher and started rubbing the panicking teen's inner thigh through his pants.

Kurt was scared, but also just really _confused_, and couldn't stop the man from leaning closer and roughly mashing his rough lips against Kurt's own soft ones. A tongue began assaulting his open mouth, invading all of the soft caverns there. The man moaned and let the hand on Kurt's thigh climb higher. "Fuck, sugar, you're so damn fine."

Kurt tried again to get his mouth to cooperate with him, tried again to tell the man to stop, but _nothing_ was working. The hand against Kurt's neck took a dive south and worked its way under his tight shirt, rubbing his flat stomach. The man was breathing hard now. "Fuck."

The hand dipped lower still and Kurt could feel the thick fingers as they tried to work off the top button of his pants. Meanwhile, the man's other hand continued rubbing his thigh, creeping higher and higher. Kurt really wished his mouth would work so he could scream, but he _just couldn't_. And then suddenly, when Kurt just _knew_ that he was about to be horribly molested, the man was violently ripped away from him.

Kurt wanted nothing more than to instantly get up and run, but the same thing that had prevented him from screaming or struggling against his attacker, stopped him from getting up. His legs felt really heavy and he wasn't sure how well he could really walk at the moment. Instead, he had no choice but to watch as the man who had essentially saved him wailed on his assaulter. The dark-haired man was plummeted repeatedly by a set of angry fists. Kurt was able to hazily make out words like "pervert" and "dead" and "fuck" before Santana and Brittany were suddenly there trying to help him stand. Santana looked pissed, more pissed than Kurt could ever remember seeing her, which was scary, while Brittany just looked sad.

And then Puck was there and Kurt vaguely wondered if he was hallucinating before recalling that the man who had pulled "Benny" off of him had been sporting a mohawk and had been wearing a leather jacket. Huh.


End file.
